


Renewed Purpose

by CanvasStarCutter



Series: Who dragged the vessel in? [1]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Crying, Embrace the Void Ending (Hollow Knight), Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional stuff everywhere, Everyone lives.. except for cloth :(, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Fluff, Ghost just wants to save everyone, Hurt/Comfort, It is now, M/M, Multiple stories going on at once, Non-graphical violence, OC gang oc gang, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Pining, Post-Embrace the Void Ending (Hollow Knight), Quirrel needs a lot of help, Rating May Change, Rediscovery, Romance, S L O W B U R N, Slow Burn, Tags Are Hard, Tags COULD change? Maybe, abuse? I don't know yet., accidental harming, is that a tag?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:01:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23338054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CanvasStarCutter/pseuds/CanvasStarCutter
Summary: After the fight with the Teacher's guardian, Uumuu, her 'assistant' had assumed the little knight who had been following along their quest would complete their task and kill Monomon the Teacher.Much to Quirrel's surprise, the little knight dreamnails the Teacher... only to awaken once more and leave her alive in the tank.What shall the apprentice of the once prominent teacher do, now that the knight refused to end the Teacher's life?
Relationships: All Nailmasters & Sly (Hollow Knight, God Tamer & Tiso (Hollow Knight), Grimm & Grimmchild (Hollow Knight), Grimm & The Knight (Hollow Knight), Grimmchild & The Knight (Hollow Knight), Herrah the Beast & Hornet (Hollow Knight), Hornet & The Knight (Hollow Knight), Monomon the Teacher & Quirrel (Hollow Knight), Nailmaster Mato/Quirrel (Hollow Knight), Nailmaster Oro & Sly (Hollow Knight), Nailmaster Sheo & Sly (Hollow Knight), Nailsmith/Nailmaster Sheo (Hollow Knight), Quirrel & Tiso (Hollow Knight), Relic Seeker Lemm & Quirrel (Hollow Knight), Soul Tyrant & Hive Knight (Hollow Knight), The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel & Lurien the Watcher, The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel & The Knight, The Knight & Lurien the Watcher (Hollow Knight), The Knight & Nailmaster Mato (Hollow Knight), The Knight & Quirrel (Hollow Knight)
Series: Who dragged the vessel in? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678396
Comments: 6
Kudos: 131





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!! This is a new story I'm writing.  
> Please be patient as I don't have a set schedule on how I will update this. This is sort of a big story, but I want to make sure it's good- ^^

From greenery and moss and flowers to a fog-filled cavern. Gelatin and overgrown plants laid among the canyon. Idle oomas floating about mindlessly in the fog with their bigger counterparts. Their cores; prominently orange beneath pale blue gelatin blended in easily with the strange environment of Fog Canyon.

And among the distinct pinks, purples, greens, and many other cool colors, was a building. A golden brown material made it stand against the natural backdrop and vivid mint windows decorating the outside. The large library that was once prestigious, now deserted, still held up all these years.

And here he was, observing it after all this time. Quirrel never realized how much he missed this place, despite not remembering it.

The call he had heard - a soft, high pitched sound similar to a siren, soft yet sharp, was the loudest here. The gentle thrums of the mask that laid onto his head, once silent and idly resting on his head, now intensified the closer he drew to the structure.

He glanced to the doorway, taking notice of the distinct but familiar mask that adorned it at the top. How the architecture was so prominent and noticeable, and yet unaffected by the acid lake below that powered it.

_What is it that calls me here?_ The wanderer thought to himself. The soft whispers of the uomas and oomas.. The soft siren-like call, the thrumming of the extra mask that he wore, that resembled the mask on the doorway… What did it mean?

Soft footsteps caught Quirrel’s attention, thus pulling him out of thought. Looking beside him, he noticed the little knight, their distinct horn shape and their white shell. He waved at them as the knight glanced up at him with the black eyeholes of their mask-shell. 

“Isn’t this kingdom just abound with surprises?” He started, gesturing to the large deserted building in front of them. “A building atop an acid lake.

“Despite the sight, I can’t help but feel..” He hesitated, and yet the knight didn’t seem to notice.. And yet despite it seeming they did things without focus, they watched him so intently, even now. “Familiarity?” Quirrel continued. “Something stirs in my mind, though I can’t yet tell what..

“I’d thought it was my lust for discovery that led me here, but now..” He trailed off once more, listening to the soft siren call that came from deep within the archives.. “There seems to be something else..” Quirrel continued, and the little knight continued to listen. If he was a normal traveler, Quirrel would be unnerved by their emotionlessness. 

The knight continued to stare at him, breaking their staring to glance from the doorway to Quirrel. He watched them too, only to look back at the building as well.. Beckoning him with that call.... Quirrel thought to himself, even if only for a moment.

“I can feel it calling..” He murmured to himself, and it almost felt like the siren-like call grew louder. “Dare I head in?..” Quirrel tightened his hold on his nail, the cool metal feeling almost _comforting_ compared to the strange warmth in the foggy caverns. _Who are you, who leads me to this place?_

He was taken out of his thoughts, now that the knight was walking inside. If the little knight had decided to go in.. Quirrel would have to face it too, the object… Or being, that was calling him. Whatever it was, depended on _him_ to do something important, he felt like.

Quirrel sighed, loosening the grip on his nail as he rolled his shoulders. The extra mask thrummed, almost comfortingly as he headed inside the archives, following behind the little knight.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The archives themselves echoed with the sizzles of acid and mechanical whirs of machinery, and Quirrel found himself engulfed in familiarity. The plants themselves barely attempted to grow into the abandoned library itself, excluding the entrance, leaving it dusty but intact.

Quirrel admired the architecture from the inside, too. The small green jellyfish that helped illuminate the building floated idly around him, and Quirrel found himself reaching towards one.

The one he reached towards floated above his hand, right out of his reach before bobbing closer to him. Quirrel cupped his hands and the tiny jellyfish floated right into his hands, feeling so delicate when he held it. _Don’t these jellyfish… fade in and out?_ His mind wondered, but the jellyfish didn’t dissipate.

Instead, it followed the wanderer as he walked through the archives, looking at the… Computers, set up around him. They whirred with words scrawled neatly through it, almost like a cycle. Hallownest’s writing language was always so complicated…

He didn’t see the little knight anywhere as he ‘explored’ the opening room of the archives. There was _something_ at the heart of it. Quirrel felt it, and he edged deeper to the entrance that held the rest of the deserted building within. The noises of hissing acidic waters, the soft whispers of jellyfish, and the echoing whirs of the computers had created a familiar ambience.. Made him feel at _home_.

The tiny lighting jellyfish that followed him had begun to fade out in the archives as he slipped down into the main entrance to the rest of the archives, and the audible static shocks of lumaflies filled in his hearing. She… Whoever _she_ was, was always fascinating. But for why this… _She_ put the lumaflies in the archives, he would possibly never know. Quirrel advanced past the oomas and lumaflies, continuing on his way.

He darted between the small pools of acid and the passive jellyfish, sometimes too slow and the fizzing liquid would brush against his shell, but it did not deteriorate due to the acid’s effects.. Quirrel would have examined this phenomenon, but he didn’t have the time to.

There were soft rumbles from where he stood, and then, on a pedestal stood the knight themselves, climbing down carefully towards the large pool of acid below.. And Quirrel had noticed something- A gelatinous guardian laid in the hissing acid, and seemed to grow disturbed by the mere _presence_ of the knight.

_Oh._ Quirrel felt anxiety slightly spark up inside. _Oh. Oh no._ He had a feeling that.. Whatever this.. Giant jellyfish would hurt the knight. He knew the little knight could hold up on their own but… 

He realized the knight wasn’t moving away. What were they _doing?_ Uumuu - Wait… Yes, Uumuu, could hurt them. Not to mention, the jellyfish protector was invincible without knowing the correct way to pierce it’s shield…

Quirrel felt his hold on his nail tighten, but the normal coolness of it did no comfort now that he realized what the knight was going to do. The madam… _The madam? She… called us both here, didn’t she?_ Quirrel thought, slowly entering the upper part of the core where Uumuu began to awaken.

With the distinct, static call of Uumuu, the knight seemed to know exactly what to do as Quirrel watched. They swung their nail, but as expected, the protection bubble that surrounded Uumuu’s core bounced their attack right off.

With a sigh, Quirrel took hold of his nail, and jumped off the top pedestal. This was the knight’s mission, after all.. He should help them, right? Waiting for the right moment, he struck Uumuu, piercing it’s shield and breaking the bubble protection, revealing the core beneath.

Just a few more times, then the knight would be able to continue their journey.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still don't have a set schedule for this.. so I update when I can..
> 
> [ tumblr @starsinstasis ]

The battle was long, but well fought. The little knight was quick and easily dodged the electric shocks that Uumuu had made, and was fast enough to keep escaping Uumuu’s pursuit. Quirrel had expected that the knight would survive the fight easily, and his expectation was true.

With the last static cry of Uumuu echoing throughout the archives, and exploding into orange colored pus, the battle was over. Thin strips of what once was it’s protective bubble littered the ground along with actual bubbles from it’s gelatin floated out in the air and popped. Quirrel found himself.. Put off. Not by the death of the guardian.. But the aftermath.

What would happen now that Uumuu was dead?  _ Presumably, the knight would’ve gone to the Madam’s personal chamber…  _ Chamber? Yes.. where she had been sleeping. For what?

The mask on his head thrummed gently, and the pillbug quietly understood.

To reform, she needed the mask atop his head.. But yet, as he touched it so gently, as if it was a delicate piece of glass rather than an ancient form of protection.. Quirrel found himself hesitating, for a reason unknown to him.

He heard the soft splashes below, seeing the knight continue onward. Their shell lacked any cracks from the fight, and their movements seemingly focused once more as they headed down to what Quirrel assumed- were towards the chambers of the sleeping Teacher.

He too, would have to assist, wouldn’t he? The Teacher was waiting.

Quirrel leaped to another platform, located above an acid pool. He let himself fall off the platform, only to jump onto the wall and let himself slowly inch towards the lower acid pool. The acid pools weren’t just an oversight, if he could remember correctly..

It allowed the Teacher to move more fluidly in the archives, and prevented thieves from easily stealing any of the more important information within.

He hummed silently to himself.  _ But the madam allowed the information of old to be archived in reach of thieves..  _ Quirrel sighed and shook his head. Not now. The calling of the Teacher. Her siren call was so loud now, and thus her need to reform.

When he had arrived at the lower part of the heart of the archives, the knight was already there, seemingly touching the glass of the Teacher’s sleeping tube.. In wonder, or wanting to break the strangely durable glass protecting the Madam?

Quirrel didn't know, but he had to focus on the task at hand. For  _ her _ to reform.

The chamber was neat as though she had never gone to sleep, the soft whirs of the computers and the whispers of the oomas and uomas filled Quirrel’s hearing once more, as the siren-like call had faded out, now that he had arrived in her chambers.

He landed right beside the knight, where he took notice of them slowly moving their hand away and turning to look at him.

"Did she call you too then?" Quirrel started, "I've realized that it is no coincidence that we've arrived here together."

"Though much of my memory is blank, this place I recall," He continued, listening to the familiar ambience of the abandoned library. "Within these chambers, the Teacher sought to store the kingdom's knowledge. And at its core.."

Quirrel found himself hesitating, but he continued. "She stored herself within."

"To save Hallownest, the Teacher willingly became a seal, but upon herself.. She enacted additional protection," He gently took hold of the mask on the top of his head. The gentle thrumming was slightly more intense, now that the calling was silenced for him.

"Though I cannot recall that happening, I remember playing a part in that feat."

Quirrel slowly took off the mask, examining it for himself one last time before the knight had to complete their task. The eyeholes in the mask stared back at him. "She called me here, now. To reverse this protection.. All in aid of you."

After a moment of appreciating the mask one last time, Quirrel stepped towards the sleeping tube, and the little knight took a step back.

With one last thrum, more intense then it’s last, the mask slowly dissipated into white particles; that of which Quirrel assumed was soul, or at least a form of it. The white particles faded out, then faded into the tank, slowly rebuilding the mask of the Teacher.

Quirrel felt his strength drain as the mask faded out into pale floating fragments, and he slumped onto the ground. It took effort to try and stand up, and so he decided to stay there, leaning up to at least sit.

The knight stepped close to the sleeping tube holding the Teacher…  _ Monomon.  _ His mind whispered, but he paid no mind. 

“Do not hesitate. The choice to reform was hers, not mine.” He rambled. “She knows what you would do and seems to welcome it.”

They turned to look at Quirrel, and he found himself staring back. He had a feeling they would say something, but decided not to…. That was a common thing with the little one, he had noticed. Silent calmness? Or acceptance? It was hard to read them, with their shell built in such a way.

_ To think, such a small creature would bear this kingdom’s fate.  _ He thought to himself. Quirrel heard a soft hum followed by a sharp high pitched chime. He looked up in confusion, only to see the knight on the ground, as if asleep.  _ To end the Madam's life.. _ He presumed.

And yet, much to his surprise.. The Teacher stayed in the tank, not fading into bits of soul. The knight awoke and stood up, glancing at Quirrel. The assistant felt.. Bewildered.

“Why do you hesitate?” He asked the knight, despite knowing they’d not reply. “Mercy is a fine thing, but you and her agree that this  _ must _ be done.” Quirrel continued, but the words felt odd to say.. But it had to be done, to break the seals..

“Be brave, friend.”

The little knight continued to stare at him, then for a moment.. Quirrel thought he saw them hesitate. They inched towards him, as if they were to do something. But then the knight seemed to decide otherwise, backing away, and running off, exiting the Teacher’s chambers.

This.. This was  _ not  _ what Quirrel had expected of the knight.

The knight had to break the seals, and thus they had to kill Monomon. But they decided not to.. So how would they complete their purpose?

The madam slept in the tank, peaceful. Quirrel watched her… he didn’t know what to do. Was this all for not? What was the point in following her call, if she were to not be killed? To protect himself with his nail throughout his own journey? From the crossroads, through the greenery with the mysterious being within the lake? Through the spore covered wastes… what was the point of it all, if not for the Teacher’s death and thus the continuation of the knight’s journey?

_ What a gloomy thought, if to wish for death. _

Quirrel stood up carefully. His body felt drained, like he had not slept on his own for a long time. He reached for his nail to help him stand up, and the normal comforting coolness of the metal had turned into a strange feeling of unpleasant warmth.

_ What do I do now? _ The wanderer thought, and he suppressed the urge to yawn. Despite him wanting to rest for now, and having the time to do so.. He didn’t desire completely for it, deciding to, at the very least sit down and.. Rest his eyes for a while.

..Yes, that seemed like a perfect idea. It was safe here, the Madam in her endless slumber was safe.. And the oomas with their younger counterparts were passive enough. He should be safe.

He leaned against the wall, once more slumping down till’ he sat. He felt at peace, but.. Not completely. Without the mask.. Something felt off to him.

Quirrel shoved the doubts in his mind away, closing his eyes.  _ Perhaps I can find something new.. _

His mind grew silent, as he dozed off, surrounded by objects and sounds of familiarity.. And bewilderment from the mercy given to  _ her _ .


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Really, it's just Quirrel leaving the archives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr  
> [ @starsinstasis ]

...slowly, but surely, the wanderer awoke from his nap, not jolting awake like he usually would. Quirrel shook his head, attempting to feel not as groggy as he did at the moment. He felt drained, but not as weak as he did earlier.

He went to grab his nail, then felt himself shudder at the strange warmth. As he shook his head around once more to attempt to shake away the cloudiness in his mind, familiar noises filled his head. Mechanical clicks from computers and the sounds of jellyfish moving through the air. The distant charges from the lumaflies and the nearby hissing of acid..

Oh, right. He was in the archives.

And Monomon was spared by the knight.

_ What is their plan?  _ Quirrel began to wonder as he stood up with the help of his nail.  _ They know of the seals.. To stop the orange sickness… But why spare one of the three?  _ His mind came up with a few possibilities, but he shoved them away. It wasn’t possible.

He looked at the mint glass tube, holding the sleeping teacher within. It wasn’t possible to wake her, especially with the seal covering her physical form..

_ Madam.. How do you fare, stuck in your endless dream? No way to wake up, and yet spared from demise? _ He made his way slowly to the tank. The acid held inside bubbled and would hiss, but it’s containment prevented such a thing. The glass felt comfortingly cold as he placed his free hand on it, and Quirrel sighed.

“I suppose… It has been a long time, hasn’t it?” He began, despite knowing she would not hear him. “Though I’ve forgotten, I’ve arrived here just the same. You were spared.. Do you welcome this new path?”

The Teacher idled in the tank, unwaking. He shook his head and looked away. “Your archives.. Your lifesake. It’s well kept, and the plants outside barely breach it. A matriarch of such a prominent place… and me as well.”

Quirrel took a step back, removing his hand from the tank. He must leave. He should, waiting for the Teacher to awaken was highly unlikely..

The wanderer rolled his shoulders, attempting to remove some soreness. Regardless of how drained he felt, he had to leave. He did a few more movements, popping his limbs to attempt to get rid of the lasting weariness he had felt. Darting beside the sleeping tube and moving quickly above acid, he went off on his way.

Backtracking through the archives was easier then it seemed for Quirrel, and the uomas and oomas idly floated by as he moved. The golden brown interior was barely scarred from the acidic water, and green tattered material hung from the ceiling. He looked above, then sighed. He’d come back, of course.. But he couldn’t stay. Oh, oh no he could not.

He needed to find something to do.. Something to explore, right?

Quirrel found himself out of the core part of the archives, away from the static noises of lumaflies and louder noises of more computers below. He paused, rolling his shoulders once more, then hopped up onto a wall then to the large pedestal, which held a bench.

He sighed in relief and decided to take a small break to rest on the bench, admiring the deserted library before he left.

Above him, Quirrel noticed the greenery from the outside had grown in the building, almost like the ripped fabric from below. Tiny white bulbs glowed among the leaves along with vines. It reminded him of Greenpath…

.. That sounded like a good place to go from here.

The wanderer leapt up from his seat and stood, before jumping off the high pedestal. Landing on his feet - and narrowly avoiding breaking any of the computers scattered at the entrance, he went on his way.

Exiting the archives, he looked behind him to see the distinct mask attached to the doorway. He’d visit the Teacher later.. But going to Greenpath seemed like a better thing to do then fading away in the abandoned structure.

Quirrel glanced to his right, and noticed an entrance had opened up that was not there before.  _ Did the knight open this entrance up?  _ He let this thought drift in his head as he left the area, coming into one of the central parts of the foggy canyon.

Uomas and oomas floated passively near Quirrel, soft whispers he could hear as he normally would from them. Ignoring the whispers, he hopped onto the upper ledge in the cavern, observing the small world around him.

Reaching down and gently plucking a few leaves from the terrain, Quirrel felt them in his hands. Soft… but probably not that edible. It’d probably work as something else then food, and he’d rather keep his own mask on for the time being.

He shook his head and let the leaves fall out of his hand.  _ To go to Greenpath..  _ He was reminded of where he was supposed to go, remembering the path he took…. 

Right, he had to head  _ up. _

The wanderer moved and hopped from one ledge to another, popping stray pink bubbles on the overgrown but rocky terrain, turning into a refined stone floor. The leaves rustled as he moved up, adding a slight  _ crisp  _ to the strange cavern’s ambiance.

Exiting the bottom central area, audible hissing of acid filled Quirrel’s hearing. In front of him, an ooma floated idly in a cramped area of the foggy caverns, and as he moved slightly out of the refined stone ceiling, another one floated above.

“Well now..”  _ This is a bit of a predicament I’m in.. _

Quirrel thought to himself for a moment.  _ The bigger jellyfish.. The Teacher made them have volatile cores within.. I can’t pierce the gelatinous liquid, or I’d get hurt..  _ He shook his head. He had to try anyway.

He at first climbed onto the refined stone wall side, digging his nail in to keep himself steady as he leaped to a curved part of the higher rocky overhang nearby. 

Quirrel tore out his nail as he did so, digging it into the now bumpy stoned, foliage-covered ledge. He watched as the ooma floated downward, and took the chance to leap on his nail and start to climb onto the flat surfaced part of the ledge, soon reaching down after to grab the metal weapon.

_ Okay, maybe I  _ shouldn’t  _ do that.  _ The wanderer thought, groaning as he felt his shell. It felt still sore, but curling around as he climbed helped a little with the weariness.

He gripped his nail and began to jump from ledge to ledge like he would, just  _ barely  _ dodging the bigger jellyfish. The smaller ones were fine.. As long as he didn’t try to touch them, of course.

Coming up to a ceiling exit of the foggy caverns, Quirrel jumped up and climbed till he was out of the cave..

And coming up to see a more, fresher area. Overgrown like normal, but more colorful and..  _ Natural  _ in general. He took a moment to stretch, deciding to do so considering his mini journey he was doing. Quirrel began to climb the wall then jumped to a ledge, right before an acidic pool of water, where a durandoo idly swam.

He observed the swimming bug, as it passively swam. Despite the bright orange eyes, the sign of the infection, it was… quite peaceful, strangely.

Quirrel timed his jump, barely missing the spikes of the durandoo and landed a particularly  _ small  _ ledge. He looked above and rolled his shoulders, knowing the small maze he had to go through.

Narrowly dodging gulkan venom and leaving the maze, he headed onward. Although his nail was lethal and easy to use, Quirrel had figured not to use it, considering how weary he had felt earlier.

\------------------------------------------------------

After darting past mosskin with orange bubbles pulsing out of their moss-like beards, ducking under coral colored thorns with weaving roots, and avoiding moss chargers  _ which Quirrel definitely had enough of and would rather not deal with _ , he had come up on a rather calm area, not counting the small mosquitoes above. Knowing he’d probably be unable to avoid them, when one noticed him, the wanderer let it dart towards him, before swinging his nail and rather quickly, ending it’s pursuit and life.

He hopped on a ledge, taking note of the refined, familiar stone, then noticed the stagway sign.  _ Ah.. right, the stags.  _ Quirrel remembered.  _ I wonder if any survived the plague thus far?...  _ He walked closer to the stag station’s entrance…

And within, it was nearly  _ overgrown _ with plant life, tall stalks of grass- some with tiny leaves peaked out through the cracked stone floor. The ceiling, once simple refined rock with etched design, now was overtaken with vines, lavender and maroon and green leaves, and thin draping plants. It resembled a sort of canopy above Quirrel, and he found it quite nice to look at.

Taking notice of the bench and the bell, the wanderer went to sit down and take a small rest on the metal bench, sighing. It felt nice to take a breather, and Quirrel hummed to himself as he sat.  _ The floral growth here.. Without the king’s orders to snip and trim at the station now, it will surely be overgrown with the foliage.. _ He let his mind ramble on, not quite focusing on anything before looking to the station’s bell.

He yawned, then stood up. His curiosity to see if any stags remained persisted as he walked up to the bell. At first, he examined the small hanging tablets on the lumafly lantern pole. It was merely word scribbles of course. A small  _ -timed?- _ schedule of when the stag station should be cleaned, it’s capacity for passengers and the limit stags could normally have. Standard protocol, Quirrel assumed.

Quirrel stared at the bell beside him, before moving his nail and giving the golden metal a tap, letting it ring. And to his surprise..  _ He heard the galloping noises of a stag. _ Looking towards the tunnel, a stag with it’s fur turned ash white galloped to the entrance.

The stag stopped and looked at Quirrel, who stared back. This felt.. Surprising, but also very awkward for the wanderer.

“Ah… Hello there, old friend!” He greeted the old stag, who seemed.. Happy to have a passenger! That was a good sign. Quirrel didn’t quite recall using a stagway… And what he did recall was not liking how bumpy it was, but maybe that was a memory from much more long ago.

“Greetings, traveler. You seem an interesting sort.. I suppose you wish to travel the stagways? Another passenger always traveled too, but it is nice to see a new face!” The stag replied, his voice low and filled with age, but still a trail of warmth within.

“Ah, well….. I suppose you do know the town far above, yes?” Quirrel asked, tentatively. He wasn’t sure if the stag knew.. He hadn’t been above in the town for a long while, aside from tracking in the mines.

“Oh, yes, of course!” The old stag said. “I can take you there, if you wish.” Perhaps it was just him, but seeing the bigger bug excited made Quirrel smile, despite the mask he wore.

“That would be wonderful!”

\------------------------------------

And then as they rode through the stagways - and Quirrel distinctly remembering very clearly why he disliked using them, the pair arrived at Dirtmouth’s own stag station.

He got off the old stag’s back; albeit shakily and thanked him. The stag just seemed happy in general to have someone new other then a different passenger which… The wanderer assumed was the knight through the process of elimination.

He walked towards the lift in the station and let it start up, the mechanical clicks and weight moving downward as he went up towards the entrance. Quirrel stepped off the life and noticed the old billboard beside the door.

Multiple inscriptions of wooden tablets dotted the billboard, from the simple stagway sign, to old advertisements from the capital. Old military training openings and small descriptions of the old areas of Hallownest, the whole lot. Quirrel found it fascinating to look at.  _ Even in decay, the board still remains. Though if I remove the tablets now, they could crumble. _

Glancing out towards the entrance, he saw the small town that laid outside. The empty shopkeeper’s building, now lit, and he supposed the new couple that had moved in when he arrived would be here too.

_ Well, I might as well rest. With the Madam alive.. A few visits should do her and me some good.. _

As he left the stag station, the old bug that had greeted him before was now a small distance away, looking at a strikingly crimson colored pair of tents. With a sigh, Quirrel sat on the bench, taking another breather.

_ I leave for the first time, and forget nearly everything. I return once, and the dead king's world comes alive, and the Teacher is spared. Now, a strange… group, arrives here in this sad little town. _


	4. Attempts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quirrel gets a house!  
> And also fucks up.
> 
> [ @starsinstasis on Tumblr ]

Whether he had fallen asleep on the bench or caught up in his thoughts, Quirrel had been snapped out of it by the voice of Elderbug, who seemed quite preoccupied with the strange visitors in the town. He had walked back to the center of the town, Quirrel assumed Elderbug had been looking at the tents.

“Something abnormal and sinister has arrived here! Their music... So eerie..” He murmured, and Quirrel glanced at the older insect. “It fills me with dread… Ugh, best to ignore it.” Elderbug shuddered.

The wanderer agreed with it, but not completely, so he spoke up. “It is… otherworldly, yes… But it could not hurt to pay those who come from the tents some attention.”

Elderbug glanced at Quirrel, seemingly bewildered by what he said. “One simple traveler like you is quite enough as it is! With whole new structures appearing out of nowhere with their  _ grim  _ music and frightening masks, I’ve quite enough with them..” He replied, frowning. The pillbug noticed he held a pale, dainty flower in his hands, glowing faintly. “This is rather enough for an old bug like me..”

“Nobody is making you deal with it, friend,” Quirrel responded, moving up from the bench and standing up, having slightly towered over the fellow bug. “Perhaps a break could help?” He offered.

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly..” Elderbug denied this. “I’ve always welcomed travelers on the occasion they come by. It’s essentially my duty now....”

Quirrel would’ve given the other a look, had he not been wearing his mask. “...ah.”

An awkward silence followed, not counting the ambiance of the scarlet theater nearby. Quirrel looked at the signs the group put up, reading over it and got to a halfway point before Elderbug spoke up again, holding the flower.

“You seem quite tired, despite resting on the bench... If you wish, would you like to take up one of the houses? They’re all empty…”

Quirrel thought over this for a moment. Despite preferring the comfort of a rocky ceiling above, a home on the surface would do him more good than staying in, say, the capital.

Which wasn’t going to stop being infected anytime soon, in all honesty.

The fog canyon itself could work... But not many edible plants and food there… Not much here, but at least maybe Quirrel could grow some?

Through a process of elimination and weighing out his options rather quickly instead of thinking through it normally, he decided to go with Elderbug’s suggestion.

“...Alright, what  _ is _ a good home here? Can you show me?”

Elderbug beckoned the wanderer to follow him as he went to show him different homes. A few were nice, but again it was only the outside. They soon came up to a rather modestly sized home, the front having ridges, but pointed outward, as if to seem bigger then it did. Dark stone covered the rest like one draped a cloth over the small building before ripped it a few times with a nail. Quirrel looked over it from where he stood. It was better than nothing, and a lot better than staying underground near the infected.

“..I believe this is the best choice. Thank you for showing me some of these. I’ll go for this one.” The wanderer thanked Elderbug and the old insect walked off, and Quirrel opened the door, slightly kneeling to avoid hitting his head on the doorway.

He looked around the interior of the house and took a few mental notes.

Mainly, he was noticing the amount of dust it had, and the weird bed that had  _ a small holed out pit at the bottom covered with pillows for some reason,  _ normal furniture, and the inactive lumafly light… Quirrel had some work to do.

Having some of his energy being restored after his rest, he cracked his knuckles as he got to work to clean.

\----------------------------------------------

After cleaning off most of the dust and tapping on the lumafly light to wake the lightning bug inside, the wanderer was making good progress. But there were still two problems.

One, he technically hadn’t eaten yet, like at all. And the only thing he had gotten earlier was the soft leaves… not very tasteful. It’d be nice to just take a small trip below for  _ something  _ edible, he wouldn’t stay long.

And he also needed a bit of supplies. The interior looked rather barren.. Quirrel was one for more practical supplies rather than simple aesthetics, but it couldn’t hurt.

Quirrel sighed, then promptly took the initiative to go get food and supplies, which was a much better decision than just simply standing there and thinking about getting food. He had rummaged through an old desk of the home and found a fabric bag...It could be good for supplies.

Exiting the home, he started walking towards the well in the crossroads… only to be met with a sickly, sweet smell as he got close. He leaned in closer to observe, and from what the lantern atop the metal railing illuminated, the wanderer saw visible orange gas- similar to smoke, rising from below. The darkness from below made it all the more ominous, and Quirrel shuddered.

_ I’d rather not go near that...  _ Quirrel backed away from it, feeling slightly nauseated. Even smelling that noxious gas made his head hurt. Looking back toward the stag station, then towards the well. He thought for a moment, then nodded to himself.

The wanderer backtracked to the stag station and briskly walked inside, standing on the small lift as it lowered down. Walking towards the bell, he took notice of the fact the stag wasn’t there, which Quirrel assumed the knight or another traveler rang the bell. Tapping the small bell with his hand, he waited as the galloping sounds of the old stag filled the station as the jingles faded out.

After a quick exchange of greeting, Quirrel got onto the stag’s back and relatively held on for dear life, but  _ was _ it better than going through the crossroads? It was too late to go back since they arrived anyway.

“..thank you, friend..” He muttered, jumping off the old stag and walking off. As he exited the stag station, he heard the stag galloping off somewhere, so he assumed the little knight probably rang the bell somewhere else.

Quirrel observed the area around him, taking notice of the squit flying some feet away from him. It hadn’t noticed him yet, so it was easy to jump up from ledge to ledge, coming up to a familiar part of the overgrown cave. He remembered this place, having gone through it to see the acidic lake beyond.

_ It couldn’t hurt to scavenge around… most of the fellow knights never quite check the entrance.  _ He stood on one of the higher slopes, reaching above him and rummaging through leaves. When all he found were flower buds and just. More  _ leaves,  _ Quirrel moved his hands away and continued in the section of the cavern.

Carrying onward, he had found a few sturdy vines and had torn them off from the ceiling, figuring it could be a sort of rope as the wanderer stuffed them into his bag. As he continued hopping from ledge to ledge, he took notice of a small entrance, brown refined rock with swirling marking engraved. Quirrel remembered it being one of - If not  _ the  _ only entrance to the acidic lake beyond.

The wanderer rummaged through more patches of leaves, finding actual fruit and also apparently realizing one of the moss knights was… watching him. And Quirrel stared back before the moss knight just backed away.

Quirrel felt like he had forgotten something but the pillbug paid it no mind and continued on his way through the overgrown caverns.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

The wanderer had gotten a modest amount of edible plants and fruit by now, going through Greenpath more quickly to get to the entrance of the Crossroads. Refined rock ledges had leaves and grass growing from the cracks in the stone, the small cavern lit up by acid.

As he jumped from ledge to ledge above, Quirrel had noticed a vengefly, up ahead. Only, orange bubbles bulged from its shell and seemed to  _ pulse _ . The fly’s eyes were a bright distinct tangerine color and looking closely, almost seemed like the eyes were blazing, any trace of normal life replaced with the sickly infection. It made it all the eerier with lighting from the acidic liquid below.

The Wanderer shuddered and took a step back, feeling slightly repulsed by it. Quirrel began to weigh out his options, taking another step back. Leaves rustled as he stepped back, which alerted the infected vengefly.

It let out a noise, akin to laughing which stopped Quirrel’s train of thought. He readied his nail, as it continued it’s laughter and headed towards him. It was almost faster than the average vengefly and the wanderer moved quickly, jabbing the nail quickly into the infected vengefly’s form, mortally wounding it.

Quirrel swung his nail and the vengefly hit the refined stone pillars, falling to the ground. The infection glowed inside it, almost seeming to mesmerize the wanderer before the insect suddenly burst into the infection, the orange gas vibrant and the scent overwhelming the pillbug.

Holding tightly on his weapon, the coolness slightly comforting to him as nausea overwhelmed the wanderer.

He coughed, before instinctively holding the area where his mouth would be, covered by his mask. Quirrel limped up, his head pounding. The infectious gases had already almost overwhelmed him when normally they wouldn’t…  _ Oh.. right, he didn’t have his… Teacher’s mask. Darn it. _

He used his nail to help lift himself, shaking slightly as he did. By the dreamers, why did he feel so  _ weak  _ now? Quirrel couldn’t go through the crossroads, his mind realizing that it had forgotten that  _ he decided to not go towards the crossroads. How could he have forgotten? _

Despite his current condition, his head now pounding and feeling like his thoughts had muddled up, Quirrel decided to attempt to leave Greenpath a different way. Despite being so far away from the entrance of the Fog Canyon and the cliffs above… Through slow thoughts, almost dragging on, the wanderer decided to attempt to head towards the winding cliffs above, rather than the jellyfish-filled caverns below… it wouldn’t do him no good with his senses messed up.

Estimating jump distance between ledges and shaking his head around a few times to try and gain back  _ some  _ sort of cognition, Quirrel had begun to make his way back to the surface through a different route… 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter isn't as strong as I'd like it to be, but I don't know how to fix it. I had taken a break to attempt to figure out what to do, but this still isn't as good as I wanted it to be-
> 
> The next chapter should be a lot stronger though, hopefully!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quirrel goes to the Howling Cliffs.  
> That's about it.

The journey to the cliffs above was not the easiest task for the disoriented pillbug, his mind cluttered up from the infectious gasses and the ever-growing headache he had made it a slightly daunting mission for Quirrel.

The first few areas of Greenpath were calming, including a serene section of the cavern with acidic waterfalls flowing into a bottomless pit beneath all the plantlife above. A bench sat atop a modestly large hill in the cavern, and the Wanderer found himself wanting to take a small nap on the metal bench... It was tempting. His head was pounding pretty badly, surely..? 

No.

No, he would not do that. In his current state, despite the enticing need to. 

Quirrel felt a small sliver of fear, reminding himself of what had just occurred earlier. The infectious gases put him in this condition and made him disoriented.

And on another note, sleeping was reliable enough to do for normal sicknesses like nausea. It was not for something as dangerous as the infection. 

The wanderer continued through the caverns, having noticed earlier that there was a continuous path to where he needed to go. Multiple rocky ledges located in the sections made it more troublesome to navigate than before, and nearly everything looked like a maze.

But he treaded onward and managed to survive the trek, even if he missed a few jumps. If, when the wanderer  _ did _ miss, even if nearly falling in acid, the tolerable burning crisp of the acid kept Quirrel focused enough.

In a few areas, neatly lit with stray lumaflies, obbles appeared to pay the wanderer no mind, having only released venom when Quirrel was barely out of their range. This was normal before, as his mind was aware enough to dodge... But now, not so much.

The explorer felt something beginning to itch in his throat, and he held back coughing as he proceeded on his way through the paths. More and more, things seemed to blur together in his vision, but Quirrel kept his eyes focusing on retracing his steps from the time earlier.

Mosscreeps and several volatile mosskin seemed to not even pay attention as he lumbered past- Only normal mosskin, but they gave a glance.

Normally these plant-like bugs would’ve gone after him. Charged towards him without self-preservation.

But they didn’t.

It was off-putting… Although, with the infectious gases from earlier making him feel so awful... It was very plausible that this is what made them ignore him.

As he kept advancing on, the pounding in his head grew. The wanderer climbed out into a strangely cool part of Greenpath, a ledge above dripping with water and the pointed pale shell of a tiktik could be seen as it crawled aimlessly on the jagged stone.

Once more, paying him no mind.

Quirrel closed his eyes as the hammering in his head worsened, and he let out a shaky sigh. Despite being so close, it felt like the normally quick walk to the Howling cliffs felt like he was taking a long hike.

A break now wouldn’t hurt. The bench from earlier would’ve done him worse had Quirrel decided to sleep on it... But the headache had the time to worsen. Without his better judgment in check, he decided to take a small moment to rest.

The pillbug walked up against a halved, large slab of stone, the coolness of it making him slightly shudder. Quirrel sat down against it, laying his nail where he was facing, before lying onto his side, laying his head on the sparse greenery leaking into the cold cavern.

The pillbug closed his eyes and fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Several minutes- Or at the most, an hour and a half had passed until the wanderer moved once more from his spot, feeling dazed as his eyes fluttered open. As he yawned, he took notice of something.

The pounding in his head seemed to have had soothed somewhat, leaving only a dull throbbing behind. This was a good sign. Perhaps he was wrong after all?

He laid there, zoning out as he thought about his next move. What was he supposed to be doing again?

…. Oh, right. He was heading back to Dirtmouth... Through the howling cliffs.

Quirrel felt for his mask he wore and ran his fingers across the root-made material. He felt small droplets of water on it then took a moment to move down his blue hood to wipe off the water that had gathered.

The pillbug reached for his nail and used it to help him stand up. The cold metal was a comfort to him once more. When he stood, a small burst of energy flowed through him

From here, to the cliffs… and that, the king’s pass.

He adjusted the blue cloth that tied around his head, yanking it forward and moving it to where it covered the borderline of the mask.

_ Much better. _

He moved along, jumping onto higher ground that had what Quirrel guessed, was the entrance to the cliffs. A small opening, but it was simple.

Perfect.

Quirrel continued on his small journey with his newfound energy, jumping easily from ledge to ledge - with the occasional vengefly getting slightly feisty and flying towards him.

It was easily taken care of with his nail, of course.

Some things just didn’t change no matter what did they?

Quirrel dodged falling stalactites as he moved from ledge to ledge, falling into spikes or onto the elevated stone. One vengefly ended up getting crushed by one of the falling rocks and it was so  _ well-timed  _ to the wanderer. The caved was filled with the sounds of wind from above…

And the occasional patter of water, dripping onto the stone floor

While he continued, he came upon a small hole inside an old pale chest, leading down into a large space below.

Young baldurs could be seen, rolling on the stone floor, and Quirrel gripped his nail a little tighter, waiting….

With the correct timing, Quirrel jumped into the pit below. Careful to not accidentally stab himself as he fell, his nail moved and pointed outward. More likely to stab one of the infected creatures below, then himself.

Cold stone met his feet and he heard the sounds of rolling shells of the baldurs. As he stood up after landing, he noticed only three Baldur were actually down in this area.

Two awake, one asleep on Quirrel’s left.

One noticed the traveler and rolled towards him, which he simply sidestepped out of its way.

He continued, lowering his head as he walked through a tunnel, then came upon a rather  _ big  _ number of elder baldur carcasses. All shielding themselves, which it would seem creepy to the stereotypical normal bug.

Quirrel was of course, not stereotypical.

The pillbug looked over them. Their deep blue shells had cracks decorating them. As if one took a mace and slammed it into their hardened carapaces.

Besides the cracks... Water droplets decorated the broken shelled corpses, and the baldurs looked... Untouched. Frozen in time.

_ How strange _ . The wanderer thought and looked towards a baldur shell. The pale brown ringed inside seemed as if the Baldur itself simply exploded.

Leaving empty space and small shells that perked up from the stone floor, next to its intact brethren.

_ What a strange phenomenon… _ Quirrel thought to himself, looking above. As not only light illuminated the small section of the cavern, a rather narrow vertical tunnel led upwards.

He readied himself and jumped, maneuvering in the tight space with his weapon.

..he was more adept at climbing back up edges with his nail.

He slowly but surely made his way out of the vertical tunnel, trying to not force his shell’s sections out of place. It was repetitive.

Stick his nail in, lift himself. Hold onto the rock, take out the nail. Then rinse and repeat. Tiresome, but it worked.

Quirrel repeated this a few more times before he no longer needed to. Cold wet stone met his feet as he hopped onto a relatively large ledge. He had noticed that it covered most of the cave, acting as a sort of pseudo-ceiling beneath the real one.

The roaring wings were the loudest here, overpowering the simple quiet patters of water.

He set his nail into the unsmoothed stone as he stretched a little, ignoring the warning call of the vengefly close by. 

When the lesser bug drew close, Quirrel took his nail out of the ground and swung at the flying insect.

It didn’t slice through it, but it did make it flinch back. The pillbug lowered his nail and went on his way to the entrance.

He was met with chilling air, the once quiet winds growing loud, and like the cliffs namesake,  _ howled. _

_ ….These winds... How freezing they feel. How could one bug survive one day, if not multiple days in this part of wasteland beyond? _ Quirrel thought to himself, looking to the many ledges above.

His top right, scattered shelves of rock, a wilted spiraling root, colored a soft crystal pink, was growing on a curled ledge.

Quirrel took a moment to think of a path, his grip on his nail loosened. His eyes moved around, forming an invisible route.

Readying a jump, the wanderer shifted effortlessly from ledge to ledge, using his skill with the nail to stable himself.

If, when a crawlid scuttled close to Quirrel, he simply picked it up and placed it in a different direction.

There was no need to attack such a passive creature.

Once the pillbug reached the top, thought was not needed. He had walked this path the first time he came to Hallownest. Of course, he’d remember something like this.

He lowered his head as he walked through the tunnel.

The throbbing he felt in his head from earlier, which he had once thought was gone, began to flare up, and he sighed, closing his eyes as he walked through.

Did he hit his head against something?

The wanderer didn’t need to think, his mind seemingly on autopilot as he leaped from ledge to ledge, ignoring the rock crawling bugs and vengeflies. The roaring winds seemed to quiet as he continued, walking. 

Then he pauses, at something he hadn’t seen the first time he came.

Or, hadn’t noticed.

A distinctly carved statue made of stone stood, presenting not a bug, but something different as it’s centered design. It’s head, held by spirals as a clear sign of its focus.

Being that of a slug, which would be evident by the etched rings in the smoothed rock body. The slug stood proud in its stone form, despite the deep crack in its head. It went through its right eyes, splitting off into two cracks like a web and showing rough, untextured stone beneath.

Dust gathered on the statue as well, signaling it’s age.

Quirrel stood in front of it, reaching forward and gently touching the crack the figure had. If this was truly made in honor of the slug... This wound would’ve killed it, wouldn’t it?

As his hand moved along the statue to it’s curled holding, he found words, carved into them.

It didn’t have the professional style as one would find in the capital... It seemed as if someone took a nail and started slicing small yet furiously into it.

‘Here Lies Gorb, the Great Mind.’

The wanderer’s hand drew away, and he found himself sighing. In sadness? He didn’t know. It was respectful to at least give respects to a grave... How could he forget to do it, since no one seemed to care for it before?

_ Poor thing. His statue… left alone. Why would one leave this here? Not even in the realm of the dead?  _ His thoughts murmured, and he took a step back. His headache seemed to worsen, and he decided to clear his throat.

Quirrel would have to come back to this later.

The pillbug turned around and started to walk off, hopping off to the slightly lower ground nearby, continuing to do so before stopping on a lower ledge, then he paused and shivered.

The winds were still freezing… then he noticed something.

A small narrow tunnel leading into darkness, and a thin bug’s corpse laid half inside. A nail stabbed in front of the bug.

Again, Quirrel was not the type to ignore something new, even if something was troubling his mind at certain times, or if the pillbug was sick.

With a moment of thinking and ignoring his headache, he leaped into the tunnel’s entrance, taking a second to cough which slightly alleviated some of the pain he was feeling, Quirrel began to walk into the tunnel…

And came upon an interesting building.

Built inside the small cavern was a house, the entrance having been decorated in pale brown rags. Refined stone made up its frontal appearance, with a pair of large stone pillars jutting in front too, their ends disappearing into the rocky fossil ceiling.

It was new, and its architecture from was Quirrel already could see, was not of Hallownest… and it was warmer inside than out in the cold.

The wanderer pondered to himself for a couple of minutes. What if another bug lived in the home? Surely, they wouldn’t mind if he took a break inside for the warmth… It was tempting.

And a quick rest would certainly help if they offered. His headache most likely wouldn’t let up anytime soon.

Taking a chance to be probably shooed out of a stranger’s home, he lowered his nail in a passive stance. Pointed low and at the ground, unlike the sentries in the city and other warriors for battle.

Quirrel breathed in and out for a brief moment and decided to head inside. Even if he was close to Dirtmouth… he wouldn’t risk himself becoming so disoriented like last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr [ @starsinstasis ]
> 
> Quirrel breaks into Mato's home. This will absolutely go well. Definitely.  
> Definitely.


End file.
